With All The Love In The World
by oflymonddreams
Summary: What happened to House & Wilson's screwed-up messed-up verging-on-noncon semi-abusive seriously don't try this at home relationship, when Wilson & Amber became an item? Part 1 is set during 4.13 "No More Mr Nice Guy" & goes AU from there. "In The Closet"
1. Asking for Joint Custody

**Part 1: Asking For Joint Custody**

Whenever Wilson had a girlfriend, his time spent with House went down, but there were some things he always made time for. House had stolen Wilson's fries at lunchtime and barged in on Wilson with a patient in the afternoon. Wilson should make time for this.

"Of Wilson?" Amber said.

"Unless we have another love child?"

Amber glanced at Wilson. "Deal with him."

There was nothing House wanted more. Wilson was sitting at the table, looking down at his newspaper. He didn't look up, but one hand began to beat a rhythm on the table, sure sign to House's eyes that Wilson was thinking of beating House.

House put on a shit-eating grin. "He needs a mother figure. I'm not saying you're not entitled to spend time with him, I'm just saying I'm entitled too."

Wilson looked up from the paper, his hand still at last. "House, do you really want joint custody?"

"That's what I just said." House could not put enough appeal into his voice, not with Amber watching. But he wanted Wilson to know he needed this. Needed Wilson, and needed the discipline Wilson brought into his life.

"This is crazy," Amber announced. "You're not a child, you can make your own plans."

"I am making plans," Wilson said, calm and stern, and House shivered. Amber looked at him as if she'd never heard that voice before. "This isn't crazy. Crazy is what House would normally do in this situation... Swap your lubricant with superglue."

"The man knows me," House said. His throat was actually getting tighter with excitement.

"This is his way of accepting us," Wilson said.

"It's actually a very touching moment," House said. He could see from the look in Wilson's eyes that the oncologist was longing to get him over his knee for a whipping. "I'm proposing I get every other day and every other weekend."

"I have yoga Wednesday's - " Amber said, but Wilson interrupted.

"House doesn't get to propose anything, Amber."

"James?" Amber said, startled.

"House asked for joint custody. If you're willing, that's what he'll get."

"What?" House said. He felt a feeling almost like dread stirring in the bottom of his belly. This wasn't what he'd planned.

"House has a safe word, Amber," Wilson said. "If he objects to what I'm about to propose, he'll use it. But unless you want to safeword, House, you should sit down on that chair, not move, and not speak until either of us tells you to."

House swallowed. Wilson was staring at Amber, and Amber was staring at him.

"You two are like dogs circling each other in the park," Wilson said. He hadn't taken his eyes off Amber. "And I say that with all the love in the world. You think you need to sniff each other's butts, bare your teeth, and arrive at some strange detente. Otherwise, you'll end up biting each other's eyes out. But I think it's simpler than that. House asked for joint custody, and if that's what he wants, we should give it to him."

"I don't understand," Amber said, but her face said she did.

House sat down. He didn't say anything. He didn't object, exactly, but he didn't know if Amber was going to agree to it. Or how it would work if she did.

"We don't talk about this outside House's apartment. Or mine. I punish House. If he wants joint custody, if he accepts our relationship, that gives you the right to punish him, too."

House stood up, suddenly: Wilson's eyes were on him. "Safeword, House, " he said.

House looked at Amber, standing beside Wilson with curiosity written all over her face. He saw in her face that she would agree to this, at least once: he saw in Wilson's that either he agreed to that, or he gave up on Wilson's discipline, at least until Amber became the next Mrs Ex-Wilson. He didn't use the safe word. He sat down. He saw Wilson nod, and Amber's eyes light up.

"We'll talk more about how this is going to work, later," Wilson said to Amber. "House needs to be punished. I think you should just watch this time." He leaned over and took both her hands and said something to her quietly.

"Stand up and bend over the table," Wilson said.

House stood up. Amber was looking at him. Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "Bend over the table," he said.

An ordinary demand. Wilson would have him bent and bare-assed and waiting for punishment.

Amber was looking at him. House swallowed. The safe word was on the tip of his tongue. But if he said it, even if he said it, Amber already knew. Amber knew he needed Wilson to punish him. Amber knew he was Wilson's.

Amber knew he belonged to Wilson, because Wilson had the right to share him with Amber. If he used the safe word, he didn't really belong to Wilson, and Amber would know that, too.

"I'm all yours," House said, trying to speak with bravado, and turned round and leaned his elbows on the table, bending down, sticking his ass out, waiting for punishment.

Wilson came over and slapped his butt. House ducked his head and whined.

"You were told not to speak," Wilson said.

Amber was leaving the room. House heard her. The door didn't close.

"We're going to your apartment," Wilson said. "I'm going to show Amber what I can do to you. Everything I can do to you. If you're a good boy, we'll talk it over - she and I. If Amber wants joint custody of you, I'll let her have it. She'll get a key to your apartment, like I have. She'll have the same right to punish you when you misbehave. Joint custody, House. It's what you asked for. It's what you need."

He bent closer, putting his hand on House's butt, not smacking, not caressing, just a solid claim. "It's what you asked for, House. Isn't it?"

House was silent. Wilson lifted his hand.

"Yes," House squealed.

"Good boy," Wilson said, and brought his hand down again, smacking House's butt. "Let's get you out of these. Amber won't touch you tonight, but she'll get to see you. All of you."

He stripped House of his pants and undershorts, and House heard Amber coming back: Amber walked in on him bare-ass naked, his clothing pooled round his ankles.

"Watch how to do this," Wilson said. Amber came closer: House heard or felt her crouching down on the floor beside Wilson. His scar. She could see his scar. House tensed up. "House," Wilson said sharply. "All your weight on the table." Wilson took hold of House's left calf. "His right leg can bear almost no weight," Wilson said. "So make sure his weight is distributed elsewhere before you do this - " He picked up House's left foot, unlaced his shoe, and tugged off his sock, quickly setting House's bare foot back on the kitchen floor. He did the same for House's right foot, with his usual care for House's leg.

Amber and Wilson stood up. House could hear Amber packing his clothes in a carrier bag. Wilson bent over him again. His hand touched House's butt, parting his cheeks. "Lubricant," Wilson said. "Not superglue." The cold blunt touch of a dildo pressed against House's asshole as he heard Amber laugh.

"This isn't big enough for you," Wilson said, his voice intimate. "It's a toy Amber plays with. Her toy, inside my toy. That's what I want you to think about, House." He pressed the dildo inside. House let out a choked gasp. Wilson had used bigger dildos and butt plugs on him, but ... _her toy, inside my toy_. He was being used by Amber's dildo, fucked by Wilson's hand. He felt unfinished; the dildo was easy to take, a hard rod inside him, not very thick, not very long. He pushed his ass up against Wilson's hand, trying to get more of it inside him.

"Careful," Amber said, sounding alarmed. "It's not made for anal sex - "

"House, I want you to keep that dildo inside you just like that," Wilson said. "Clench your muscles on it. It's not going any further in, no matter how you squirm. Can I - Oh, thank you. House can take quite a lot, you'll find - but I'll just warm him up for now."

House bent his head. Wilson had paddled him with a wooden spoon before, when he had been a nuisance while Wilson was cooking. He had been over Wilson's knee, clutching at Wilson's leg, gasping and sobbing by the time Wilson was done.

_Smack! _The wooden spoon hit him. And again. Small hard smacks of pain.

He hated being punished like this. Bent over a table, not able to relax into it, and with - Oh god, Amber. Cut-throat bitch was standing next to Wilson, watching. Wilson was talking to her, not to House. He sounded affectionate. Kindly.

"We could buy some new items just for you. You might like a cane. You can cause a lot of pain with a length of rattan, and it leaves some lovely marks. If I cane House, he feels it for several days. A paddle brings up red on the skin, like this, look - " the spoon hit hard, on the upper part of his left thigh " - but a good paddle doesn't even leave bruises. I can paddle House till he cries, and he won't have a bruise the next day. I think he'll be bruised from this." Wilson was beating him hard now, smacking down on his butt. House whimpered involuntarily, shivering, feeling the dildo shift inside him.

Wilson stopped. He touched the dildo, not gently, tapping on it with his hand. "See how he squirms? That toy isn't deep enough to touch his prostate. It's pure anticipation." Wilson smacked his ass, left and right, very hard, and House squirmed, an involuntary wriggle that made the dildo wag inside and out, a feeling almost like getting fucked, and Wilson hit him again with the spoon, right, left.

"He's really getting into it," Amber said. She sounded interested. "Every time he wriggles like that, the dildo moves, and I can actually _see_ him getting harder."

"Spread your legs wider, House," Wilson said. "Give us both a better view."

"Can't - " House whimpered. He swallowed tears. "Can't - " He moved his legs closer together, sheltering his cock and balls. "Please, Wilson - "

Wilson tangled his fingers into House's hair and jerked his head up. "You weren't told to speak," he said. "Amber, get me his belt." He pulled the dildo out, and House whimpered again to feel it go.

What went into House's asshole was longer, harder, thinner - not the right shape -

"That was my wooden spoon," Amber said. "I can clean the dildo, but - "

"I'll buy you another," Wilson said. "This is about teaching House a lesson. He can spread his legs wider than that, and he shouldn't have spoken. He can safeword. He can't talk unless we ask him a question. I'm going to whip him now till he spreads his legs as wide as he can and gives us a good show with that spoon up his ass. We should be able to see his dick getting hard and the spoon waggling about as he squirms for us. I'll stop when he starts crying."

"Crying?" Amber really sounded interested. "That, I'd like to see."

"You will," Wilson said briskly. "He's nearly there now. House. Spread your legs, wide as you can, and give us both a little show."

The belt hurt. Hard stripes across House's tender ass. House was whimpering. He was trying to focus on getting his legs apart, when they wanted to cling together, to shelter his hard-on from Amber's eyes, and he was trying to move his ass, to please Wilson: he could feel the spoon moving, not in a good way, as if the handle was stirring inside his ass. He squirmed, and lifted his butt to meet Wilson's belt, and moved his right leg slowly to the right, and he was trying to do it right and Amber was watching - he was trying to please Wilson, and Amber was watching -

Joint custody. He belonged to Wilson. Wilson proved his ownership by letting Amber have him. He was Wilson's, Wilson's, _Wilson's_.

He was sobbing, "Wilson," into the table when Wilson finally stopped. He couldn't stop sobbing, helpless and so turned on he didn't think he could stand, just a toy Wilson was showing Amber how to play with, belly down on the table with his face next to dirty plates smelling of their food. He went on sobbing, his whole body shaking with it, when Wilson tugged him up from the table, and gave him a carrier bag full of stuff to hold, and wrapped his own belt round his neck like a collar. He went on sobbing, jelly-like quivering blubber, when Wilson wrapped him in a blanket. The spoon was still up his ass. Wilson guided him into the trunk of Wilson's car, and made him lie down with his legs curled up, still bare ass naked with a wooden spoon up his butt and his own belt collaring him. He was aware of Amber watching. He was aware of Amber smiling. She was pleased. Wilson would be glad she was pleased. He sobbed and mouthed Wilson's hand as Wilson tucked the carrier bag in to cushion his head.

"Want to say something, House?"

"Please," House said, and kissed Wilson's hand again, licking his skin. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Wilson said, and let House lick his palm and then his knuckles. "Good boy."

"Please. Can I thank Amber?"

Wilson pushed his fingers briefly into House's mouth. "Not yet," he said, and let him go, pulling the lid of the trunk down.

_Part 2 follows soon! Back at House's apartment: what will Wilson do to House, with Amber watching? Remember this is their screwed-up, messed-up, verging-on-noncon, semi-abusive, seriously don't try this at home, relationship... _


	2. You Were Supposed To Get The One You Wan

**With All The Love In The World**

_Part 2: You Were Supposed To Get The One You Wanted_

Wilson opened the trunk of his car. For a big man, House managed to huddle himself into a surprisingly small compass. Wilson felt the gut deep thrill: House was his.

They had made the trip from Wilson's home to House's before, with House in the trunk: not often, only when House was needy enough to come beg Wilson. Not often since the infarction: getting House out of the trunk was more difficult now he couldn't put his weight on his right leg. But he had an assistant this time.

"Amber's going to touch you," Wilson said quietly, putting his hand on House's blanket-covered shoulder. "Just to help me get you out of the trunk. Then you'll lean on me so I can get you into the apartment. She'll open the door for me. And then you're going down on all fours and crawling. I want to see that spoon up your ass wagging like a tail, House."

He saw House nod, and a rush went through Wilson, so hard he could barely contain himself. He told Amber briefly what to do, and saw her eye him, thoughtfully, but he didn't have time to think about what the look in her eyes might mean.

House dropped to his hands and knees inside the apartment. Amber closed the door. Wilson pulled the blanket off and tossed it to one side. The spoon stuck up out of his ass like a small erect tail. Wilson bent over him, running his knuckles down House's bony back to where the wooden rod penetrated him. "Good boy. You've got nothing to say now except your safe word. Nod if you understand that."

After a pause, House tossed his head up and down. He got very nonverbal at times like these: Wilson sometimes liked to make him talk, to force him through obscenities into the real, humiliating truths about himself, but for tonight, it was better for both House and Amber to let House sink into the nonverbal submission, when he would let his body be used and displayed like a toy or an animal. In this state Wilson sometimes wondered if House could remember his safe word, but he'd tested House sometimes and found he could.

"To the bathroom," Wilson directed. "Take your time. Make sure your tail waggles and your hind legs stay well apart."

House choked. He shook his head, still nonverbal, and didn't move. He twisted his head round and gave Wilson a look of appeal, hurt and horrified, mouth parted: House knew what a trip to the bathroom meant.

Wilson caught hold of his head and petted his hair. He spoke affectionately. "Don't be silly, House. You know it's going to take a lot of help to get that tail out without hurting you. You want to get fucked later, don't you? You don't want me to have to call 911 and take you to the emergency room? They'll just have to do to you what I'm going to do to you." He stood up and moved round House to stand behind him. House was shifting his knees in the carpet, trying to get his legs further apart. As Wilson watched, House lifted his ass into the air, just a few inches, with a grunt of effort. "Good boy," Wilson said. "Now crawl."

He turned to Amber. "I'm going to give House an enema. Several." He glanced back: "Go on, House. Keep crawling." He looked back at Amber. "First, to get that spoon out without hurting him. Second, to clean him out thoroughly for later. Thirdly, as you'll see, because he gets completely docile when he's been given a big enema."

"More docile than this?" Amber sounded faintly disbelieving.

"You'll see," Wilson promised. He grinned at Amber, caught her hand, and they started down the hall after House.

Wilson got the spoon out with the first small, soapy enema: House had an accident and Wilson, without fuss, wiped it up. Wilson had used so much lubricant that the spoon had caused no damage, but it was stained. Wilson bagged it and binned it.

"Bend over the bath," Wilson said. He had House position himself with his hands inside the bath, his chest resting on the edge. "For this," he explained to Amber, "I want him so I can see his belly swell. I'm going to give him two quarts of water, then let him empty himself, and then four to finish with."

House wasn't docile yet, but he was obedient. Wilson slid the nozzle into House's anus, and began to administer the water. House could hold two easily after Wilson's training, if he was plugged, and sometimes Wilson made him hold an enema for some time. "Good boy," Wilson praised him, trailing a hand over House's quivering buttocks, still red from the beating Wilson had administered with spoon and belt earlier. "Shall we show Amber what a good boy you can be? Hold that water while I spank you. Just to keep your ass warm."

He wasn't just doing this for House, or to demonstrate House's obedience to Amber, but because he was so high on seeing House like this - on sharing this with Amber - that he needed the release, needed to feel his palm connecting with House's tender flesh. He prolonged the spanking, covering most of House's ass, just because it felt so good.

When he was done, and propped House up on the toilet to let him empty himself out, House buried his face against Wilson's belly, his hands hanging limply by his side, and cried, quietly, his guts emptying. Amber watched, her nose wrinkled. It did stink, Wilson knew, but there was no help for it and it wasn't part of the trigger for House to verbalize this.

When House had his gut pumped full of four quarts of water, Wilson knelt down by House's side and beckoned to Amber. "Look: you can see the swelling. That's all water." He fondled House's belly. "I love having him full up like this," he said proudly. House's face was downcast and he was weeping: not with a struggle, as happened when Wilson's beatings drove him to tears, but easily and simply. "All he can think of is that mass of water in his gut. That he wants to be a good boy. My good boy." Wilson petted House's belly one last time and stood up. "I could plug him and beat him," he said. "But I'll be beating him later, thoroughly, and all he needs now is to know that I want him clean and empty, for me." He was grinning, happy with anticipation, and Amber smiled back at him. He wasn't used to talking about this to anyone but House, and it was great to be able to share it like this.

Letting go of the third enema: House leaned against Wilson, passive and trembling, as Wilson petted his back. He pulled House's t-shirt off over his head and House accepted this final stripping without even a muscle-twitch of protest. When Wilson rolled him off the toilet seat and on to his hands and knees on the floor, he went as directed. Wilson wiped him off, flushed the toilet, and washed his own hands. He took lube and the buttplug out of the cupbourd under the sink, and greased the fat end of the plug. He planned to finish the evening by fisting House, while Amber watched: he'd make House come like that. He grinned again with anticipation, thinking of the beautiful sight of his whole hand sliding into House's butt, the feel of House's body trembling around his arm. Then he and Amber would make love. They'd let House watch, or perhaps blindfold him so that he could only hear and know what was happening.

He eased the plug into House's ass, telling him gently that he was opening up, that the fat cold plug was filling him, making him ready for Wilson. After the hard wooden spoon, after the too-small dildo, this had to be bliss for House, and Wilson enjoyed watching his ass open up and quiver around the plug, see House squirm and jerk back helplessly as Wilson impaled him on it. "Oh you're such a good boy," Wilson whispered. "Come on, now." He caught House's hair and tugged, hardly having to pull him, as House compliantly went as Wilson directed. Down the hall. To the closet.

"I'll put him in here for a while," Wilson said. House didn't like the closet - it was the only thing Wilson had done to him that House didn't like. But Wilson liked it - loved knowing he had House locked away, just for him, all his. He sometimes fantasized about doing it all day long - about calling in a sick day on House's behalf, and keeping House locked up for twenty-four hours. Going to work, seeing patients, seeing House's team and Cuddy and the nurses, knowing that at home he had House locked in the closet, his own lovely secret.

He locked House's wrists to the walls - it probably wasn't necessary with House in this peacefully compliant state, but it was part of the ritual. House was squirming on the fat plug that filled him, his cock rising and hardening between his parted legs, a tranquil, dazed expression on his face. Wilson kissed him on the mouth, and backed out, closing the door.

He lifted his finger to his lips and led Amber down the hall to House's living room, where they'd be out of earshot. "I'll leave him there for an hour," Wilson said quietly. "We could have coffee, and I'll show you what I usually beat him with - " He had quite a collection of canes and paddles, most of which House had bought, though Wilson had acquired some of the more painful implements.

"I don't want coffee," Amber said. "James - how long have you been... punishing House?"

Wilson thought about it. "The first time was... soon after I moved here. He didn't ask me for it as often while he was with Stacy. More often since the infarction: he needs it more."

"I think I should go home," Amber said.

"What?" Wilson stared. "But you..."

"This isn't..." Amber stopped. "James, how often have you done BDSM with anyone but House? You never even hinted... with me."

"I don't want to punish you!" Wilson felt as if he had been hit, twice.

"Or your wives?" Amber got the answer to her question by Wilson's dazed silence. "James, I love you, and I want to be with you, but... I don't think I can be part of this."

"You're leaving me?"

"No," Amber said, and qualified it with "I don't think so. I've done BDSM sometimes. I know people who are pretty into it. But I've ... never seen anything like this. House would... he'd let you do _anything_ to him."

"He has a safe word," Wilson said. "I check to make sure he remembers it."

"But he doesn't want to use it," Amber said. "He loves you. I knew that, but I didn't know..." She trailed off. "I don't think I can be part of this," she said again. "He's yours. He's so much yours he'd let me watch you take him down. I know you love me, " she said before Wilson could, "but this isn't anything to do with you and me. This is about you and House. I've done stuff... I've done scenes and I had a boyfriend who was into it, I used to tie him up and cane him - "

"You could do that to House," Wilson said promptly, floundering, hoping he'd hit solid ground. "Not tonight, I promised I wouldn't let you touch him tonight, but he'll agree to let us have joint custody, and you can tie him up and - " He could see it, House naked and tied over the arm of the sofa, and Amber with Wilson's favorite heavy cane, that always made House scream. If Amber were caning House, Wilson could sit with House's face in his lap, feel House scream against his cock. It could be so good.

"No," Amber said. She shook her head and stepped back. "Look, I've got my phone, I'll just call a cab. You stay here - "

"Let me drive you home," Wilson said.

"You can't," Amber said. "You've locked House up in the closet. God I can't believe I just said that. You _can't_. I know this isn't safe, sane, consensual, but even so - you _can't_ leave him like that. I'll go to the all-night store on the corner and call a cab from there."

She picked up her purse and coat and, after a moment, she kissed him. "See you tomorrow."

"Amber - "

"It does something to me," Amber said finally. She glanced at the closet door. "_God_ it does something to me. For me. But ... I don't know if I can be part of it, James. Goodnight."

Part 3 follows soon!


	3. Stay with me Just stay with me

**With All The Love In The World**

_Part 3: Stay with me. Just stay with me._

Wilson opens the closet door and House blinks in the dazzle of light. Wilson unlocks his wrists and grabs at his hair, and House struggles to move as Wilson directs him. He wants to please WIlson and he doesn't know how when Wilson is like this, silent and manhandling him. The dildo up his ass is moving inside him, tantalizing him, making him want more. He wants to hear that he's Wilson's good boy.

Wilson puts him over the arm of the couch. There is a clutter of items on the floor, he sees them without recognizing them, until the first blow of the paddle hits his butt and he realizes Wilson has put everything he uses to punish House there, every cane and paddle and flogger, and he remembers Amber will be watching this.

He belongs to Wilson, and Wilson can do what he likes with him. Wilson wants Amber to see him.

Wilson has never beaten him like this after a spell in the closet. When House is in the closet, that's just for Wilson, and House can't do anything wrong because all he is, is Wilson's: secretly, this is why House likes the closet, because it's the only space in his life where he has that security. The closet is safe.

Wilson isn't talking to him or to Amber. He paddles House's ass hard, drops the paddle, and moves on to the next. Each blow is sharp and hot at the same time. Each loud whack sounds through the apartment. House's mouth is open and he can hear himself whining with the pain: he wants a gag, he wants to feel his mouth full, he feels like he's being tenderized like meat and he should be spitted at both ends, Wilson is paddling him so hard and the plug impales him, House knows he must have done something very wrong for Wilson to be so speechless.

Wilson has half a dozen canes waiting - Wilson likes to use the cane - but the next thing he picks up is a flogger. He uses this on House's back and sides, lighter blows that sting, but Wilson goes on and on: he whips House like an animal being driven under a burden, never stopping to lecture House or to praise him, never speaking even to explain to Amber. There are three floggers, two leather and one rope, and Wilson uses all three. House is crying, open-mouthed, and Wilson must be able to hear his sobbing, but he says nothing, as if the whipping should tell House anything he needs to know.

There is a pause after Wilson finishes with the third flogger. House hears Wilson going through to the kitchen, getting himself a drink of water from the tap, coming back. Wilson is standing over House. House feels a hard dry prod in his shoulder, followed by a light tap on his cheek. He opens his eyes and stares up at Wilson, seeing that Wilson is now holding a cane.

"Oh no..." House whimpers, before he can stop himself or think. "Please no..."

"Safeword, House."

House shakes his head. Wilson looks angry enough already. House doesn't want to see disappointment there as well. Wilson has to finish punishing House, this has to be over, Wilson has to be pleased with his good boy. He can't go through all of this and not have Wilson pleased with him at the end.

"Do you remember your safe word?"

House nods.

"Say it so I know you remember."

House shakes his head. He's crying still.

"Say it so I know you remember."

House chokes it out. The safe word. Wilson's expression doesn't change.

"Say it again, and I won't cane you."

House shakes his head. "Please..." He does not want to be caned, but he wants to be Wilson's good boy, he wants Wilson to hold him and pet him. He won't safeword. But he wishes Wilson could decide that this was enough. He wants Wilson to be happy with him.

There are six canes. Wilson probably uses each one. House tries to count but he can't, his head keeps moving away, there's too much going on. His butt and thighs are still stinging from the paddle. He screams. Over and over again he screams.

The last blow hits across his damaged thigh, the place Wilson never hits unless House has done something horribly wrong, and everything around House goes red into pain. He barely notices when the dildo slides out of him. He feels Wilson's hand at his anus, cold and greasy, pushing even more lube into him.

Wilson's fisted him before. House knows he plans to do it tonight. His whole body hurts, even his arms have pins and needles from lying on the couch so long, and he feels Wilson pushing his hand into House's body like Wilson was a puppeteer and House was a toy. Wilson could push his arm all the way into House and grab his heart, and House moans invitation: he is opening up for Wilson, the mass of pain that is his body is no longer his but Wilson's. Wilson is using his hand inside House to rub against his prostate, forcing House into arousal. The pleasure screams across House's nerves like pain. He is groaning as Wilson pumps his fist inside him, and Wilson doesn't stop with one orgasm: he milks House dry.

House has no idea how Wilson managed to get him from the couch to his bed. He wakes the next morning not even sure if Wilson came inside him or on him: he is sticky enough for either. Wilson is sitting up beside him, already awake. The moment House opens his eyes, Wilson hand-feeds him two Vicodin, makes him swallow half a glass of water, and -

House squints at the ball-gag in Wilson's hand. They don't do this in the morning. They never have before. He looks up at Wilson's face, and realizes, even through the fog of just-awake, that Wilson has decided he just doesn't want to hear House speak. He opens his mouth and lets Wilson fit him with the ball, neatly between his teeth, and fasten the buckle behind his head.

"Amber left me last night," Wilson says. "While you were in the closet."

Wilson leans over House, and his eyes fasten on House's. "I thought, when you asked for joint custody, this could be so good. I love Amber. You're mine. I want to share you with her. But she told me she wasn't sure she could be part of this. I don't know if I can get her back. But House - " his hands take hold of House's face and hold House's head securely: "if you spoil it for me, if you try to make Amber feel she can't punish you, she doesn't have the right, we're through. I mean it."

Wilson lets go. House wants to push up against Wilson's hands: his head rises from the pillow in an automatic effort to do that, but Wilson has moved out of reach.

"Go and clean yourself up," Wilson says. "I'll make breakfast."

He doesn't take the gag out, so House, muted, showers and dresses in shorts, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. The hot water hurts his back, but it's a good hurt. His ass hurts, not in a good way, but reminding him of how open he was to Wilson last night, and that's a good memory.

Wilson is making macademia nut pancakes, House's favorite, and brewing perfect coffee. The only thing House ever liked about Julie was her sending Wilson to cooking classes. He limps barefoot into the kitchen. Wilson glances at him.

"I didn't tell you to get dressed," he says.

For a moment, House thinks he's joking. But Wilson looks serious. So House starts taking off his t-shirt. Wilson waves a hand at him. "Get out. Get naked and wait for me."

All of the implements Wilson used on him last night have been put away. House doesn't want to sit down on the couch, or anywhere else. He likes the feel of cloth rubbing against the marks Wilson leaves, reminding him. He can't remember the last time he was naked in front of anyone but Wilson. How much did Amber see last night?

Once he asks himself that question, he can't stop the shakes. It's real: Amber saw him. Amber knows. Wilson always says he didn't want anyone to know, ever, but Wilson wants Amber to know. House stands, naked, in the middle of his own living room, shaking and feeling an odd burning sensation behind his eyes, in his gut. He doesn't know where to go or what to do with himself: Wilson wants him naked and waiting for him. He wonders, once he is sitting in the closet, if this is what Wilson meant: House didn't think about it, but this is where he belongs when Wilson tells him to wait.

Wilson walks down the hall to the bathroom, and then to the bedroom, and only then checks the closet. He looks annoyed. House lifts his arms to the walls, holding his wrists to the restraints, looking at Wilson hopefully.

Wilson reaches in and grabs him by the hair. House struggles to move as Wilson directs him. He wants nothing more than to hear that he's Wilson's good boy, but Wilson says nothing. He takes House's arm and makes him stand, walking him back to the living-room. There is a large plate loaded with pancakes on the table, and two mugs of coffee. Wilson, House realises, is dressed for work, all but his jacket. Wilson sits down on the couch. "Over my lap," he says. He positions House using his hands to push him into place, House cooperating in a blissful fog.

Wilson takes out the gag before he reaches for his plate of pancakes, which he puts - House feels the heat - on House's back. "Don't move," Wilson murmurs. The pancakes smell wonderful. Wilson starts to eat.

Wilson handfeeds him pancakes, one by one. House eats them off the palm of Wilson's hand.

"Before Amber," Wilson said quietly, "do you know what my ultimate fantasy to do with you was?"

House's mouth is full of pancake when Wilson asks the question. He isn't sure whether he's supposed to answer. He's never thought of Wilson having fantasies about House.

"I want to keep you locked up in that closet," Wilson says. He feeds House another pancake. "I'd take you out to keep you clean and feed you. I'd plug you and catheterize you so you couldn't make a mess. When I wanted to, I could take you out and have sex with you. When I'm done, I'd put you back. You'd be all mine, no one else's."

House stirs. His mouth is full of delicious pancake. Wilson's right hand is resting on House's aching butt. He thinks about Wilson's fantasy. It's very flattering - just the idea of it, just knowing Wilson thinks about him like that, is filling House with a warm glow. Wilson has never catheterized him. House wonders if Wilson would like him to get a catheter kit. Wilson feeds him another pancake. House holds himself still.

"I'd still like to do that," Wilson says. "But I've got a new fantasy. I want to be able to share you with Amber."

"You don't have a patient. I'm going to call you in a sick day. I don't want to see you at work. I want you naked, here, until I come back. You can spend time in the closet or out of it, but I don't want you to wear clothes and I don't want you to let yourself come. I'm on call tonight. I'm going to meet Amber for lunch, and we're going to talk about you. I'll be here tomorrow morning, with breakfast, and I'll call ahead if I want you to get dressed. If Amber's coming over with me."

He feeds House another pancake. "I love Amber," he says again. "Don't screw this up for me."

_Part 4 follows soon! And, in case you were wondering, Part 4 is going to be from *Amber*'s POV - but still all about this screwed-up, messed-up, dub-con, don't-try-this-at-home relationship between House and Wilson... how bad does it have to get before _Amber_ starts looking like the voice of sanity and reason?_?


	4. Should walk away clean

**With All The Love In The World**

_Part 4: Should walk away clean_

"Volakis and Wilson residence, Amber Volakis speaking," Amber said, cheerfully: she expected to hear James's chuckle, but there was a long pause with distant music in the background, and the sound of glasses clinking. "

"Cut throat bitch," House said. He sounded very drunk. "Wilson. Put Wilson on the line."

"Wilson's at the hospital."

"No," House said. "You're lying. Wilson's there. Tell him I need him." House made an odd noise, like a hiccup, or a sob. "I need Wilson. Tell him."

"He was on call and he went into work," Amber said. She glanced at her watch. It wasn't even eight o'clock yet. House sounded drunk off his ass.

"They took my keys," House said. "I need a ride. Tell Wilson."

"Where are you?"

"Sherry's," House said. "Wilson knows. Call Wilson. Can't bind - find my cell. Tell Wilson I need him." He hangs up, or his money runs out.

It took Amber a few minutes to find Sharrie's Bar on Google Maps. It's only a couple of miles from PPTH or from where House lives. It wouldn't take her long to get there by car. She really didn't feel like going out - she thought she was starting a cold, she wanted to stay in with a hot mug of tea and have a steamy hot bath and ... go to bed alone.

She thought about calling James. But their conversation at lunch was mostly about House, and mostly pretty fraught. James said finally they should talk about it tomorrow, over breakfast - they both have Saturday off - and then he seemed relieved that evening when there was an emergency call about one of his patients.

She can get House out of the bar where he's pickling himself, and probably be back here before James gets home from the hospital. Just in case, she left him a note: "Sorry I'm not here. Went to pick up House." She scribbled a heart sign and a capital A.

House was at Sharrie's Bar. He had been there, drinking, for hours: the bartender had confiscated his bike keys.

Amber stood watching him from the door. She could figure as much as that out without going near him, and she didn't want to go near him yet.

Wilson and House. House and Wilson. She'd seen they were friends, that House mattered to Wilson, from the day that House stuck a knife in a wall socket and paged her so that she'd get there in time to save his life.

She knew how much Wilson mattered to House when he let Wilson take him down in front of her.

Wilson, smiling and sweet and sometimes almost innocent - when she'd suggested they tape their lovemaking to play back later, he was embarrassed and giggly and saying "I've never done this before": but he'd done heavier BDSM play with House than she'd ever seen anyone do to anyone.

Amber sneezed. She used her last paper tissue to mop her nose. She just wanted to get House home. Wilson shouldn't have left House alone after a heavy scene like that. House shouldn't be drinking like this.

House rolled his eyes when she sat down on the empty bar stool beside him. "I said to find Wilson." His voice, his face, his expression, was all that of her former teacher: nothing about him said he remembered last night. He was even drunker than Amber had guessed from the door.

Amber tilted her head and looked back at him. "I have joint custody, remember?"

That got him. House looked away abruptly, a real big flinch. Momentarily, Amber even felt bad about it. She just wanted to get him home safely, but, he was looking ... beaten.

"Wilson's working," Amber said. "C'mon." She pointed to the door. "Time to go."

"Whoa," House said. He leaned forward, ignoring her, and yelled at the bartender, "Need another round! And a drink for... what passes for a lady around here?" He looked back at Amber. "What's your poison?"

"Nothing," Amber said. The bartender was glancing from her to House. Amber stood up off the bar stool, and said to the bartender, "We're leaving."

"We're leaving," House said, doing an obnoxious imitation of her. "Leaving, leaving, leaving..." He didn't look at her. "Cosmos. I remember Wilson buying cranberry juice." He spoke to the bartender. "I'll have another. And she'll have a Cosmopolitan."

"No," Amber said, cutting over House's words. "You called for a ride. C'mon."

The bartender glanced at her. Amber said, again, directly to the bartender "You took his keys away, right? He called me for a ride."

"Did not," House interjected. "Called Wilson." He slammed on the bar. "Next round! And a Cosmo for the cut throat bitch."

"Same deal," Amber said, and added, not nicely, "Daddy's busy: he'll deal with you tomorrow."

House's head swung round and he stared at her again, wide-eyed, mouth opening, his reaction so disproportionate to what she'd said that Amber almost gave in: but she wanted to go home.

"Pay the guy," she said. "We're going."

"I won't," House said, after a moment, in a small voice.

"How many drinks has he had?" Amber asked the bartender, who told her. It was more than she'd thought. She sneezed.

The bartender handed her a napkin.

"Thanks." She wiped her nose, glared at House. "We're going, Greg. Voluntarily or not, you're getting into the car with me."

"Whoa," the bartender said, amused. "You got a lady who means business."

"She's not," House said, and then his voice slipped away. He got up off the stool and staggered towards the entrance. His cane had dropped down to lie on the floor: Amber bent and picked it up, then handed her credit card to the bartender. House had stopped by another bar stool and was hanging on to it, half bent over. Only Amber, in the whole room, would see it as a position readying himself for punishment.

"Need a receipt," Amber added, quickly, and pocketed card and receipt when the bartender handed it to her. James would pay her back. Or she could get House to.

This wasn't safe, sane, and consensual. James didn't seem to have any idea of the normal rules for a good BDSM relationship. Whether House did or not, he loved Wilson too blatantly much to say no.

Amber didn't touch House's butt. She put an arm round his shoulders and shoved the cane into his hand. "What are you doing? You can barely walk."

"Go home. I'll take the bus," House muttered.

"You forgot something," Amber said, through gritted teeth, walking him towards the door. "Joint custody. You asked for it."

She'd been lucky with parking. She opened the passenger door and all but pushed House into her car. It was weirdly like going on a high school date in reverse. House had closed the passenger door but hadn't fastened his seatbelt: he was leaning against the door, away from her, eyeing her as she got in.

"You don't give up, do you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm an idiot that way," Amber said. "Fasten your seatbelt."

House didn't move. "You doing this for me or for Wilson?"

"For Wilson," Amber said.

After a moment, House nodded. "Well, then it's even more impressive." He held out an imaginary glass. "Salut."

Amber sneezed. "Urgh," she said, realizing she had snot on her hands. "Damn, do you have a Kleenex?"

House didn't move. "I got a sleeve. I got two, actually."

"I need more than that." Amber was tired. "I'm getting that nasty flu." She had got Wilson to write her a prescription for amantadine tablets, in case she needed to stave the flu off at work. She hadn't been working there long enough for anyone to be happy about sick days. "Do up your seatbelt, House."

House seemed if anything to move further back: leaning back and away from her. Amber sighed. She fished the amantadine bottle out, and tipped a few into her hand, holding them carefully on her palm. Her fingers were messy with mucus from her nose. She put her palm to her mouth, and gulped down the tiny pills. For an instant, they tasted bitter in her mouth. "I'm not moving till you fasten your seatbelt."

House reached for the door handle. Amber applied the central locking system. "We could sit here all night," she said.

After a full minute, with a defeated look, House began to do up his seat belt. When Amber heard the fastening go home, she started the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Your place," Amber said.

21b Baker Street was only minutes away. Amber parked the car and unlocked the doors.

She'd expected House to extract himself from the car faster than he'd got into it, he'd acted so reluctant to be around her. He didn't move, and Amber wondered if he'd fallen asleep, but when she looked directly at his face, his eyes were wide open, staring at her.

"You don't like me," he said.

"No," Amber said. She meant her reply to be ambiguous, since it was evident that she would be dealing with House for as long as she was involved with Wilson, but she couldn't keep the sincerity from out of her voice.

House nodded, as he would when someone in a DDX gave an intelligent answer that House had thought of ten minutes ago. He was looking at her thoughtfully.

"Wilson loves you," he said.

Amber nodded. "I know." What she wasn't sure - really wasn't sure, now she knew about House - was what that meant to James.

"You can beat me if you like," House said finally. He wasn't looking at her any more: he was looking away, through the car windscreen.

"Beat you?" Amber echoed. James had been almost desperately persuasive that she could get into the relationship between him and House. But however persuasive he was, Amber just didn't believe him.

House's shoulders moved, either shuddering or shrugging. "Paddles. Canes. Floggers. Belts. Even just your bare hand, if you like. I got them all inside." He stopped. "Except your hands, of course. I'm not a maniac. I don't collect body parts." His voice had taken on the timbre of the early classes, lecturing, humorous: before he paged Amber and died.

"When you stuck your knife in the socket, did you care whether you were going to live or die?" Amber asked, suddenly.

House stared. "What possible relevance can that have to the amatory habits of the flightless New Jersey doctor?"

"I saved your life," Amber said.

"And now I owe it to you?" House smiled, a nasty grimace. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't play by those rules. I paged you because I was damn sure if you found me you'd keep me alive. Cut throat bitch."

"You were dead when I came into the room," Amber said, reliving that moment.

"Technically. I'm alive now."

"You were _dead_. Your heart wasn't beating. I paged a code and did CPR. Your heart started again. I got you to live."

"So?" House grimaced. "I said you could beat me. I didn't say you could lecture me."

"I wasn't trying to lecture you," Amber said. She hesitated. "Do you want to come back to my place?"

House turned his head and glanced at her and smiled, the most wickedly ambiguous grin Amber had ever seen. "No," he said. "You don't have anything there to use. If you did, Wilson would have used it."

"You did a very heavy scene with Wilson yesterday," Amber said, ploughing on, trying to be responsible. "I don't think you should be alone."

"I'm not alone," House said."He'll come by."

"Wilson?"

"Who else?" House smiled. The confusion under the smile was still hard-edged. "Offer's open all night, at least. Maybe more. Did you tell Wilson you'd like to cause me pain?"

"No," Amber said, startled, and honest.

"Wilson says you used to cane one of your boyfriends."

Amber shrugged. "He got off on it, I like sex." She said nothing more. She was disturbed that the story she had shared with Wilson was coming back at her from House, but she supposed she would need to get used to that. If she wanted to stay with James.

"You can cane me," House said.

"Are you going to get out of the car?"

"Are you going to get out and beat me?"

"No," Amber said.

"I bet you'd like it," House said: his voice was dark and assessing. "You want to hear me scream."

Amber shook ber head. "I _don't_ want to."

"Yes, you do," House said. "I want you to."

"You can't always get what you want," Amber said, capping the Jagger line. She saw House swallow. He was scared.

"Why do you want me to beat you?"

"I fired you," House said. "I tried to split you and Wilson up. I humiliated you in front of the rest of the team. You want to hurt me for that, you can do it. Go ahead."

"Wilson wants me to beat you," Amber said, understanding. She ought to have got it sooner. "And you want what Wilson wants."

"I don't want to be in pain," House said. "I don't want to be miserable. And I don't want him to hate me."

_tbc_

_(This story seems to be always going where I don't expect it! Looks like there will be a part 6 now... House's POV again.)_


	5. This is your grief talking

**With All The Love In The World**

_Sorry for the long long gap but it took me quite a while to figure out what happens next. This is the Closet!Verse in which House and Wilson have a really, really dubious BDSM relationship ... You should definitely go read the first four chapters, or at least the one previous...**  
**_

_**Part 5: This is your grief talking.**_

House put his cane away in the closet. He lurched, half-numbed from too much alcohol, down the hall to his bedroom. He stood for a while staring at the big, empty bed.

Wilson liked to bend him over the bed and paddle him till he cried. Use a cane to raise welts on his legs and his shoulders. Use a flogger to redden his back and his ribs. Wilson had beaten him a lot in this room, and fucked him, when he felt House had been punished enough to deserve being fucked.

House turned and lurched out again. He hadn't done what Wilson wanted. Wilson had wanted him to stay home, to stay naked. Wilson hadn't wanted him to go out and get drunk. Wilson hadn't wanted him to call Amber. He hadn't meant to call Amber but Wilson had no real reason to believe him.

Wilson wanted Amber to beat him, and Wilson was very persuasive and House had done a lot to make Amber hate him, so she probably would, sooner or later. Sooner, House hoped, not later: he wanted Wilson to be happy, he didn't want Wilson to leave him. Wilson loved Amber. He didn't love House.

House leaned against the wall. After a while, he could move again, though the pain felt like getting knifed. When he was in the closet, he couldn't do anything wrong, because all he was, when he was in there, was _Wilson's_. So if he went into the closet, and stayed there till Wilson came to find him, maybe that would make Wilson happy.

House sat down on the floor and took his shoes off. He never wore shoes in the closet. He was sometimes naked, but not always. It was probably OK to keep his clothes on. He didn't know how long he would be in there. Wilson couldn't be too mad at him. Not for just wanting to be warm.

House shoved himself into the closet, on his butt, moving himself with his hands. He locked the left restraint around his wrist, then realised he couldn't lock the right-hand restraint. He just couldn't. That would have to be enough. Wilson couldn't be too mad at him when he really couldn't do it.

House sat still and waited. After a while, the door swung to, and he was alone in the closet in the dark, just as he should be. Waiting for Wilson.

_*House*MD*House*MD*House*MD*House*_

Amber waited until the waitress had brought their food, at least. "I've been offered a job in Arizona. A friend from med school runs the radiology clinic. She's impressed that House accepted me for a Diagnostics fellowship. I emailed her this morning to let her know I'd take the job."

Wilson had stopped eating. He wasn't even sure if he was more angry or more confused.

"You were offered... out of nowhere... a job in Arizona?"

Amber's eyes never left his face. "I called her last night," she said. "I knew her hospital was hiring, because I looked up every hospital at least a thousand miles away from here where I know someone on the staff."

Wilson scrabbled his hands together. "What did House say to you?"

"He asked me to beat him," Amber said.

She looked down at the food on her plate, as if she couldn't believe she'd ordered it. "James," she said, looking up again, "I'm not leaving you."

Wilson laughed. He brought his hand to his face, wiped his eyes, chuckled again. "You're moving to Arizona. Are you suggesting we have phone sex?"

"I'm suggesting you move to Arizona," Amber said. "Or anywhere. So long as it's far enough away from New Jersey that you have to stop seeing House."

Wilson shook his head. "I'll stop," he said. "I mean, my balcony is right next door to his, I'd have to ask Cuddy to move offices if you meant literally stop seeing him, but if you mean the other thing... I'll stop." House would just have to get along without it. He'd done without Wilson's discipline for years at a time, though it was true he'd needed it more and more recently.

Amber shook her head. "You say that now, but you won't," she said. "Something will come up. You'll want to. And you will. And then you'll lie to me about it. And then I'll find out. And I'll leave you." She spoke in short choppy sentences, as if she had to catch her breath between each one.

_You'll want to. And you will._

"This is not about what _I_ want," Wilson said, and Amber shook her head.

"I knew you and House had a relationship. Everybody does. Nobody's sure whether or not you ever have sex, you're in the closet as far as that goes, and nobody at all knows what _kind_ of sex you have. Except for me, and I'm not going to tell anyone."

"What did House really say?" WIlson asked.

Amber shrugged and started forking food into her mouth, eating briskly. "Told you. He offered to let me beat him. It would help if you wanted to take on my apartment lease."

"I love you."

Amber stopped eating. She looked around the diner. "I know," she said finally. "I love you, too. But."

Wilson's heart thudded. He knew what was coming. Amber didn't want to share him with House. Two out of three of his wives had left him because of House - there had been other reasons, officially, in the lawyers' offices, but that was what it finally came down to. "Do you have to move to Arizona to be sure I'm not cheating on you?" he asked. He meant it to be challenging, but it came out sad.

Amber put down her knife and fork. Her hands went flat on the table. She stared at Wilson. "I want you to move to Arizona," she said. "You could get a job there, too. You don't need to stay here." She stood up. "But you want to," she said, looking down at him. She walked away.

_House needs me._

Wilson had been about to say that out loud.

House didn't have anyone but Wilson. He had people at work - though Foreman and Chase and Cameron had been better for him than any of the new fellows. House wasn't on speaking terms with his dad, and in consequence he rarely saw his mom. He was an only child. He hadn't managed to have a relationship since Stacy, and he'd driven her away when she tried to come back. House didn't have an emotional connection in the world _except_ to Wilson, and the only place in the US that would hire him was PPTH. Wilson could get a job in Arizona - he had a pretty good reputation, and friends he'd kept in touch with from med school, he could find work there - but House couldn't. If he moved away from PPTH, he'd be unemployed. If he was unemployed, he'd be more dependent on Wilson than ever.

Amber didn't need him. House did.

He loved Amber. He wasn't sure any more that he even _liked_ House.

_*House*MD*House*MD*House*MD*House*_

The phone rang. Cuddy picked it up. The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, though it took her a minute to place it.

"I can't tell you why," the voice said. "But if House hasn't come into work today, I think you should go round to his apartment yourself and check he's OK."

"What?"

"Don't send one of his fellows. He'll never forgive you. Nor will Wilson. Go yourself."

"Doctor Volakis," Cuddy said sharply, finally remembering the name that went with the voice.

She called Diagnostics. House hadn't come in today.

_tba_


End file.
